


All Tied Up

by SwiftEmera



Series: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge (Vigilante Edition) [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftEmera/pseuds/SwiftEmera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry wants to try something new, and Oliver is definitely interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

> Gahhhh, still not entirely happy with this one, but there's only so many times that I can go over it and re-word it, so I hope it's okay. ENJOY. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am by far the last person you should come to for BDSM instructions, so take this part of the series with a pinch of salt. I've tried to be as respectful as possible, but all BDSM practices should be thoroughly researched before embarking. I did do a little research, and there's actually not THAT much (it's more just bondage, really) but always always always be safe, guys!
> 
> ALSO - this is part of a series, meaning that there is a tiiiny bit of a story, so if you want to understand what's going on, I'd click back to the first part, but its not absolutely required because it's pretty much just porn.
> 
>  
> 
> **(Day 4 of the 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge - Bondage)**

 

He had meant to stay away. He really had. But of _course_ he couldn't ignore Barry's call for help with a mission.

Of _course_ he couldn't refuse the offer for a drink afterwards – despite the fact that Digg kept giving him the stink eye throughout the evening, as both Oliver and Barry nervously avoided the man's knowing gaze.

And... yeah, okay. He probably should have left it at that. Gone home with everyone else. But Barry had made a point to sit beside him in the cosy booth that they'd procured for the group – their thighs rubbing together throughout the night, his fingers trailing up and down Oliver's inner thigh, sending bursts of arousal shooting through his body, a sly smirk on the younger's face that promised a night of delightfully sinful pleasure.

So _of course_ one thing had led to another – he should have known better than to think he could have avoided it, to be honest.

They're in Barry's bedroom _again_ , Oliver's back flat on the mattress, and Barry perched over him, their erections brushing together through the thin material of their pants as Barry places open-mouthed kisses over the curve of Oliver's neck.

“I have an idea,” Barry murmurs into his skin, and that causes a rush of adrenaline to course through Oliver's system, because when Barry has an idea, it usually involves taking their... thing... to another level, and in the heat of the moment, Oliver is always inclined to say _yes_.

He moves his hands so that they're rested on the curve of Barry's hips where his shirt has ridden up ever-so-slightly, trailing his fingertips over the exposed skin, and Barry lets out a slight hiss.

“Always a worrying sentence, Barry,” Oliver manages with a groan as Barry presses down a little harder on his groin.

Barry smirks in reply, dragging his teeth over the flesh of his neck, before sitting upright, splaying his hands over Oliver's chest to balance himself. “I, uhm-- I got something.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow, but before he can ask, Barry scrambles off him, and Oliver whines slightly as the pressure leaves his dick. It's not for long, though – he turns to see Barry rifling through his night stand, pulling out several items with a triumphant hum, and quickly clamouring back over him, a smug grin curling on his lips.

His eyes dart to Barry's hands, and they widen when they land on the contents.

Okay – condoms, lube – nothing new there, but it's the third item that makes his throat constrict – makes his mouth run dry, his heart thunder in his chest, and Barry watches him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

“You... you want me to tie you up?”

Barry flushes, biting his lip between his teeth, but Oliver continues to stare at he rope with curiosity and wonder. “I mean, you don't have to,” Barry says, and there's a slightly nervous tremble to his voice. “But I-- I just-- I'd like to, if you, you know, wanted to try it.”

He can't quite work out how to give his permission verbally – he seems to have forgotten how to use his words entirely, if he's honest with himself, so he does the best with what he _can_ do. Oliver pulls himself up, so that he's sitting upright, Barry still straddling his lap, and he threads his fingers through the younger's hair, bringing their mouths together hungrily.

He tries to avoid this – kissing. Which is weird, he knows. After all, he and Barry have done far more intimate things through the course of their _arrangement_.

Sex, though – sex can be fun. Sex can be without attachments – without any form of promise towards the other person.

Kissing, on the other hand, goes hand-in-hand with _feelings_ and _promises of more,_ as far as Oliver's concerned – which he knows is a pretty fucked up logic, because one night stands kiss all the time, but he rarely does this with Barry. Kissing a one night stand is one thing – but kissing a guy who has become your close friend and began to mean so much more to you than just a meaningless hook-up? Well, that's something different entirely.

He pries the rope gently from Barry's hand, along with the lube and the condoms, and slides them under the pillow behind him for convenience, because he needs to do _this_ first – needs to feel Barry's tongue stroking against his own, lips colliding softly against one another, dragging soft breathless pants from Barry's mouth.

They take their time exploring each other's mouths, shedding their clothes slowly, and it's painfully intimate in a way that it's never been before – in a way that he always told himself that he wouldn't allow. When they're naked, Barry is rolled onto his back, and Oliver stretches over him, letting out a groan at the sensation of their hard flesh grinding together without any barriers.

Oliver sucks bruising marks into Barry's neck, trails soft, sensual kisses over his chest, swirls a tongue around his nipple and soaks up the sweet sounds that Barry's making – all panting breath and beautiful moans – as he makes his way down. He gets to his hipbone, where he places an open-mouthed kiss, and Barry shudders with anticipation.

The thing is – he's never done _this_ before. He's been working himself up to it – trying to gather his nerve. It's not a homophobia thing – really, it's not – he knows he's not exactly straight. He might have a preference for women, but this attraction for guys has always been there – it was there for Tommy, it was there for Digg in the beginning, and god, it's _especially_ there for Barry – but Barry's the first guy that managed to coax him out of his cosy heterosexual bubble.

So, yeah, he's never sucked a dick before. But there's a first time for everything, right?

In all honesty, it's a bit shitty of him. Barry has done this for him _plenty_ of times, and Oliver finds himself wondering if that's because he's done it before, and _fuck_ , the curl of jealousy that stirs in his gut at the thought of that is the last thing that he needs right now.

Barry watches him, propped up on his elbow and fixing him with a bug-eyed gaze, pupils blown wide, and that's Oliver needs to work up the nerve to take the other man into his mouth.

He starts off slowly, licking a strip up the length in one smooth motion, and Barry gasps, gripping onto the sheets with white knuckles. Oliver lets a deep chuckle escape his throat, because the noises that Barry is making just from the one moment of contact are absolutely beautiful, and he really wants to hear more of them.

Smoothing one hand over the dip in Barry's stomach, he moves his other hand to grip the base of the younger's cock firmly, and Barry continues to watch him, lips parted, as he swallows him down slowly.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Barry groans, his stomach clenching below Oliver's hand.

It's nothing like he expected it to be. It doesn't taste so bad. Sure, he can taste the small beads of bitter, salty fluid on his tongue as he swirls it around Barry's head, and it's not entirely pleasant, but it's nothing that he can't handle in exchange for the sounds that he's dragging out of Barry.

As he bobs his head, interchanging between enveloping Barry's dick with the wet heat of his mouth and teasing strokes of his tongue, Barry mewls below him, and he feels a hand fist into the short strands of his hair. He glances up at Barry through his eyelashes, and the other man just looks absolutely _wrecked_ , panting furiously, head thrown back on the white pillow below him, and Oliver's chest swells with pride at the sight.

He loves this – loves making Barry come undone like this. The harsh pants increase to double-speed, and Oliver trails his palm over his stomach in a gentle soothing motion – surprising even himself with the tenderness.

“T-touch yourself,” Barry gasps out, his voice strained, and yeah, he really doesn't need to be told twice. He moves the hand on Barry's stomach to his own neglected dick, wrapping his fingers around the base and he begins to stroke slowly, dragging a low groan out from his throat which makes Barry yelp in surprise at the sensation caused by the vibration.

“Ollie... _stop_ ,” Barry whimpers, and Oliver raises his head, coming off the younger's dick with a _pop_.

“Fuck, did I do something wrong?” He asks, eyebrows crinkled in concern at Barry's distress.

“N-no.” Barry chokes, stroking his hand through his hair gently, and a pleased hum escapes Oliver at the sensation. “So close. I just-- I need you.”

The admittance is quiet, and perhaps a little shaky, but Oliver hears Barry's plea all the same.

Oliver rearranges them so that Barry is back on top of him, straddling his lap once more, and he fixes him with a serious expression, his palms sliding over his hips in a gentle motion as he takes in the gorgeous sight of the younger man perched over him.

He'd really rather not talk, if he's honest. Talking means acknowledging that this is a regular thing that they _do_ – that what he and Barry have is far more than a friendship. They very rarely talk during these encounters, beyond a few directions and questions, but full-out discussions? No.

In this case, though, it can't really be avoided.

Oliver moves his hand to Barry's chin, tilting it so that the other's gaze was firmly on him. “If we're going to do this, I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay?”

Barry's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, before nodding in reply.

“If there's anything – _anything_ – that I do that you don't like, stop me. If something hurts, tell me. If you want to stop the entire thing, then you need to let me know. This will only work if you're open with me, Barr.”

The nickname falls from his tongue before he can catch it, and judging by the mesmerised look on Barry's face, it hasn't entirely flown by him. He doesn't say anything, though, just nods again.

Oliver clears his throat, eyes firmly trained on Barry. “I think... we need a safeword?”

“Uhm.” Barry considers it for a second, and his head tilts a little, which causes Oliver's heart to clench, because _fucking hell_ , it should be illegal to be that adorable. “How about we just go with the _red, amber, green_ system for now?”

 _For now_. The words settle in his chest and send a pleasant shiver down his spine at the suggestion of future need for the use of safewords. (And, _god_ , against his better judgement – he really wants there to be a future.)

With the words stuck at the back of his throat, he manages a stiff nod, and then the heat is suddenly increased tenfold when Barry leans and suckles on the flesh of Oliver's neck. A loud groan escapes Oliver as he moves his hand under the pillow, fingers closing over the rope.

He runs his fingertips over Barry's back, trailing the rope as he goes, and Barry shivers with a small gasp. Oliver moves his lips to the younger's ear, and whispers, “turn around for me, Barry.”

When Barry shuffles around so that he's still straddling Oliver, back facing him, Oliver runs his palms down his arms slowly, before pulling Barry's hands behind his back. “I'm going to tie your wrists together, okay? If it's too tight, you need to tell me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oliver groans, his forehead landing on Barry's back gently at the words. Without saying more, he begins wrapping the rope around Barry's wrists, making sure to keep some space in-between so that he can loop the remainder of it around the middle in order to make some simple rope cuffs. Once he's done, he takes a second to take in the gorgeous sight, running his palm up and down Barry's back with a shuddered sigh.

“Tug on them a little, let me know if they're too tight or too loose,” he prompts.

Barry shuffles a little, obliging Oliver, then he shakes his head – which Oliver is pretty sure means that they're fine, but there's no chance in hell that he's taking the risk without any clarification. He's heard the horror stories of people's first forays into bondage (and okay – this isn't Oliver's first, but he's pretty sure it's Barry's – he selfishly _hopes_ it's Barry's, anyway) and the last thing he wants to do is harm him.

“I need you to clarify, Barr. Verbally.”

“They're fine, sir.” Barry replies, and Oliver's stomach swoops at the sultry tone that the other man's voice has taken.

He leans back so that he's propped up on the headboard, wrapping his free hand around his dick and beginning to stroke a little, before pulling the condom and lube from under the pillow. It doesn't take him long to roll it on and slick himself up, yet somehow it feels like a lifetime because he just needs to be inside Barry _right the fuck now_.

They're not going to last long – he _knows_ this. They've both been worked up to near completion as it is, and the gasps and groans that Barry sounds out as Oliver opens him up with his fingers are almost enough to make him come untouched. When Barry _finally_ sinks down on him, surrounding him with tightness and heat, Oliver hisses and sinks his fingers into Barry's hips as he guides him.

Once he's fully seated, Oliver leans forward to run his palms on the insides of Barry's thighs, nipping softly on his neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses, ripples travelling up his spine as Barry begins to move slowly, panting with shallow breaths, entire body flushed and slick with sweat above him.

The movement is limited – of course, Oliver knew it would be,what with Barry's hands tied behind his back. He moves his palms around to the back of Barry's thighs to help the younger balance as he works himself on Oliver's dick with breathy moans and stuttered gasps, and Oliver buries his head in the curve of his neck in order to muffle his own noises.

“Feels so good, baby,” Oliver murmurs into his skin, and he's so high on the adrenaline and the feel of Barry's tight heat around him that he barely registers the slip. Barry says nothing, though, just continues to fuck himself on Oliver, tightening around him, and Oliver feels like he could just drown in Barry and die happy.

Eventually, Oliver grips onto Barry to still him, and Barry fixes him with a questioning look.

“Just-- I want to--” Oliver breathes out, but he can barely form the thoughts never mind the words so he decides to just demonstrate instead. “Trust me?”

“Y-yes,” Barry replies, with absolute certainty – and it's enough it make his heart clench in his chest, because he shouldn't – he really _shouldn't_ , but this man, for one reason or another, cares for Oliver and trusts him with more than this – with his _life_ – and all Oliver can do is pay him back with heartache, and it's not _right_. Barry deserves so much more than this. He deserves the world. He deserves to fall in love with someone who isn't broken – someone whole, who can take care of him in all the ways that Oliver can't.

“Ollie?”

The tentative use of the nickname breaks him away from his thoughts – brings him back to the present, and he leans over to brush his lips with Barry's tenderly, before he begins to move.

Barry gasps as Oliver moves his hips below him with long, deep strokes, and angles himself so that he's brushing with Barry's prostate – something that Oliver knows he's achieved when Barry lets out a surprised yelp, before his head rolls back on his shoulders, his eyes hooded with lust.

As the heat increases, they fall into a rhythm – Barry moving his hips, meeting Oliver's strokes flawlessly, and they're both so lost in the sensations. Time seems to slow down yet move faster all at once – both dizzy and intoxicated on one another's scent, ragged breaths pouring from their lips.

Oliver grips onto Barry's hips, pulling him down harder until they're both gasping desperately, enveloped in the fiery passion until they both dissolve into ecstasy, flooded by bursts of pleasure and white light pooling his vision. Oliver shudders, his hips stuttering, riding the shockwaves as he comes with a long, drawn out groan, Barry following, untouched, with a broken moan, spilling hot liquid onto Oliver's stomach.

Heart pounding frantically in his chest, he gazes up at Barry with wonder – the other man panting on top of him, limbs loosened from the orgasm, and he drags him down into his arms, reaching behind Barry to loosen the ropes so that they fall off when Barry tugs them apart.

This is usually the part where Oliver works himself up to leaving, but he can't this time. He just _can't_. Somewhere in the back of his mind are all the reasons why he should be getting the hell out of there, but right at the forefront, there's Barry, soft and warm beside him, averting his gaze like a broken puppy, and that just tugs on Oliver's heartstrings.

So, instead of moving from the bed and getting dressed, he shifts closer and snakes his arm around Barry's waist so that his hand rests over his hip, fingers trailing gentle circles into his skin, and presses a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Uhm...” Barry utters, and Oliver huffs.

“Shh, Barry. Go to sleep.”

He watches Oliver uncertainly, but when it's clear that he's not planning on going anywhere, he lets out a contented sigh, folding himself into Oliver, tangling their limbs together.

For the first time since before the island, Oliver feels safe and warm.

They both know that the bliss is temporary – that in the morning, Barry will wake up to an empty bed, Oliver's side gone cold from having left long before, but they allow themselves to bask in the illusion of normalcy for just one night.

Somehow, it hurts more for Oliver to leave when he wakes up at an unspeakable hour the next morning – but he untangles himself from the younger man against his own will, pulls his scattered clothes on and leans over to press another kiss onto Barry's forehead, before making a hasty exit.

He wonders how long they can continue to make love while pretending that they're not _in_ love. Sooner or later, something's going to give, and quite frankly, he's losing sight as to why that might be a bad thing.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [here](http://smittenvigilantes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
